


Threesome For Two

by orphan_account



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Doppelganger, Double Penetration, M/M, Magic, PWP, Self-cest, Threesome - M/M/M, Threesome with two people
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-22
Updated: 2013-04-22
Packaged: 2017-12-09 05:15:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,962
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/770396
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>England magically doubles himself to have a threesome with France. There is a little bit of selfcest as well. (A super late fill for the what_the_fruk December Love-fest of 2010)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Threesome For Two

**Author's Note:**

> Okay, so... there is a long story behind this fic. Or maybe not long but... well, it took a long time. I started this back in December of 2010. orz And then never finished it. It was a fill for the December Love-fest @what_the_fruk on Livejournal. For this request [here.](http://what-the-fruk.livejournal.com/255226.html?thread=1453050#t1453050) (As it turns out, someone who didn't fail as badly as me wrote another fill way back when it was actually supposed to be written... But I think mine is different enough that it was worth finishing anyway. If you want to read the other one, it's right there.)
> 
> Later I found [ukfrneedsmorelove](http://ukfrneedsmorelove.tumblr.com/) on Tumblr and inspired by the UKFr love I felt like I really should do something to give back to the fellow UKFr fans. So I went through all my unfinished fics, found this and FINALLY finished it. It's just a silly little piece but I hope you all enjoy it.
> 
> This is my first time posting here so there might be some hick-ups with the formatting because I have no idea what I'm doing. I'll fix them ASAP.

England's first experiment, after a successful magical cloning of himself, was to have sex with himself.

Well, what would _you_ do? Admit it, you would be curious.

He came to the conclusion that he definitely wasn't half bad as a sex partner. In fact, he'd probably give up masturbation from now on and do this instead.

He then went shopping with himself. It was handy having two pairs of hands around. On the other hand, he wasn't very good company. There wasn't much point in talking when the adressee was himself. 

In fact the most meaningful conversation occurred when they realized that they were almost out of tea. That is to say they fought over the last teabag until it was mutually decided that they should go back to being one so they could both drink that last cup.

He drank and pondered what to do with this new skill. He could pull some wicket pranks, definitely. Maybe he should go visit Scotland... or not, actually. He didn't want to give his brother any clever ideas. One Scotland was enough.

But he really needed to come up with some other use for the clone other than self-sex and shopping help. It just made him feel rather lonely and pathetic. 

\---

France hated his life.

He had spend last _months_ fighting with his boss over austerity measures. He fought some more with the other nations over his boss's unpopular foreign policies. The economy was full of shit. He hadn't had a day off since summer. It was _inhumanely_ cold and the traffic was completely jammed. And worst of all, he couldn't even _remember_ the last time he'd had sex.

Shivering, he waded through the snow, utterly depressed by the thought of a cold, empty bed waiting for him at home. Oh what would he have given for a weekend in one of his provincial houses with a couple of pretty girls or boys in his arms, relaxing in front of the fireplace before a night full of love-making...

He said hello to the concierge -- a nice old fellow who always smelled of pipe smoke -- trying to brush the snow off of his clothes and shoes.

"Your English friend came to see you again," the concierge told him. "I hope you don't mind if I let him in."

"Oh?" France's attention was caught. What did that rosbif want from him now? "Not at all, it's fine. He would only complain endlessly if you didn't."

"You have got a mountain of mail, too," the elderly man noted, limping off to fetch him a sack full of letters, undoubtedly more work from his boss. France grimaced but took them, thanking him, and climbed the stairs up to his apartment.

"Hello?" He had to admit it was nice to come back to a home fully lit and warmed up, whatever it was England had in his mind for him. The sack was immediately thrown aside. He'd deal with it later; now he really needed to rest.

He took off his thoroughly soaked shoes and socks, grimacing as he wondered if there was any way to save them from ultimate demise. Then he noticed the odd noise coming from the livingroom; as if there was a fight going on.

"England?"

The nation stumbled out of the room, quickly closing the doors behind him. "... Hello, Frog," he said, blankly. "Took you bloody long enough."

"What the hell are you up to?" France asked, sighing as he pulled off and put away his scarf.

England stepped closer, pushed him against the door and started undoing his coat buttons. Roughly. France yelped in surprise. "Sex," England replied.

"Ah... So I see." France said. "Well, I'm always glad when you're being honest about your desires, especially this kind of desires. But I'm a bit too tired at the moment. Perhaps after a little nap? And maybe a--mmh!"

He was silenced with _un baiser anglais_. Surprisingly, it didn't taste of alcohol.

"No," said England, throwing his coat away and pulling him to the bedroom by the collar. France gave up resisting. There was no talking to the rosbif when he was in a mood like this. Besides, he shouldn't look a gift horse in the mouth.

England proceeded to undress him and France was so busy trying to save his beloved clothes from being ruined by the impatient British hands that he didn't notice another person entering the room. Not before said person pressed himself against his bared back.

He jumped. "What the--!?"

"Hush. Never mind him," England said nonchalantly, but the corners of his mouth betrayed a surpressed grin.

"Who's--" France began but was again cut off by a kiss from England. (He was taken aback for a second but remembered to take the chance to unbutton England's shirt in turn.) Meanwhile the unseen third person opened the fly of France's trousers and pulled them down, followed by his underwear.

Those hands were vaguely familiar... A lot like England's, actually. Wales? he guessed. It wasn't Scotland, he would have recognized Scotland and this was someone shorter anyway. The hands slid up along his legs and settled in the area of his hips, stroking teasingly. Damn, it was hard enough to think when he was so tired and England was doing his best to distract him with his wicket tongue.

"Hey, let's move along to the bed already!" The stranger grumbled. 

That didn't sound like Wales... Then again it had been a while since France had seen Wales.

Then the third partner suddenly slapped him across the arse, making him jolt and accidentally bite England's tongue. England wasn't happy.

"Oi! Give us a fucking warning, you bloody bastard!" England growled behind his hand with which he was protectively covering his hurt mouth.

"Well you were busy hogging him all for yourself." The mysterious partner turned France around and stole his mouth to himself.

Or did he? France could have sworn he did but now he was kissing England again. He pushed the other nation away and rubbed his offended bottom, scowling. He turned to scowl at the unknown person too.

"What the hell is--" He stopped and turned back, to England. And then back, to England again.

Then both Englands were pressing against him again, one pair of hands playing with his nipples, another with his arse, one mouth biting his ear, the other his neck.

"Don't worry," one of them murmured. "You're just tired. You're probably just imagining this."

France opened his mouth to protest but then his brain suggested that it might be better for his mental health to just go with it.

One England sat down onto the bed and pulled him to his lap. The other kneeled in front of them both, spreading France's legs with an evil grin on his face. With his eyes, France followed the head slowly bowing down towards his crotch until he felt the tongue on himself. Behind him the other one kissed and nibbled the nape of his neck. 

He gave a shuddering sigh and closed his eyes. England's tongue was so tentative and teasing. His hands reached out for England's hair to urge him on... but the other England caught his wrists and pulled them back.

"Nuh-uh. None of that," the England behind him said.

"Right," said the other one, lifting his head and licking his lips. "You said you were tired. Sit back and enjoy."

France bit back a moan. "Ah. So this is that kind of game then?"

"Yeah, something like that." The one in the front leaned in to lick France's lips. Then he stood up and started stripping. "You entertain him for a while," he said to his double.

"Aye, cap'n," the other said wryly. He pushed France down and straddled him, pinning him down by the wrists. He then proceeded to attack France's neck. France moaned and writhed appreciatively.

The other England climbed onto the bed, now completely naked. He took over while his double stripped in turn.

France realized that he'd already lost track of which England was the first one and which was the second one. If that even mattered. He frowned. "Which one of you is real?" he asked the one who was lying on top of him at the moment, forgetting for a minute that this was supposed to be imaginary.

England stopped kissing his jaw and raised an eyebrow at him. "What? We're both real."

"Oh..." France left it at that.

The other England finished stripping and crawled up to lie down at France's side. "Hey there, pretty boy. Miss me?" he murmured and pulled France's face to a kiss.

"Mm... I was with you all the time." France replied.

"Fair point."

The England on top of him slid to his other side now and he was held and caressed from both sides, two pairs of legs curling around him and he had to admit he didn't know what to do with himself, something that didn't happen to him too often during sex. Then one moved southwards while the other took over north.

"We're going to fuck you," said the latter between kisses. "How do you like that?"

France hummed contently. "Sounds nice. Both at the same time?"

"If you think you can take it?"

He squeaked as the other one did something incredibly clever to his inner thighs. "Oh... sure," he answered. "Oh! Yes!"

The top-England looked puzzled for a second for his extreme reactions but he turned around only to notice his accomplice grinning around France's cock and two fingers up France's arse.

" _W-watch your teeth!_ " France gasped, positively shaking, not daring to move.

That only encouraged England who kept his teeth ever-so-lightly around the penis while his tongue teased the tip in his mouth and his fingers wiggled inside France.

France sobbed. The toothy hold felt uncomfortable and slightly painful yet at the same time all too wonderful. And he didn't dare to move a muscle even as England's hand dug deeper into him after thankfully adding some lubricant. The other England sat up beside him and petted his head comfortingly. France clung to his waist like a drowning man.

"Enjoy tormenting him?" the latter one asked. "Are you taking much longer?"

The other one finally let go of France's dick after one last lingering lick. "Ask him if he's ready."

Both looked at France who nodded weakly, relieved. Encouraged by the partner who he had been holding on to he climbed into this one's lap, stradling his thighs and throwing his arms around his neck and sharing one more kiss.

There was a relatively awkward moment of shuffling around until they were all in comfortable and practical positions. Then finally two pairs of hands guided him onto the dick under him. Its owner grunted in pleasure. France himself just sighed. He was being stretched a bit too quickly but he didn't mind. The England who was inside of him gave a few experimental pushes, then stopped, pulled him closer, hungrily biting his shoulder in an attempt to stay patient and not start moving already. France bit him in return and held onto him just as tightly.

The other England was kissing his neck, rubbing his arse cheeks and slowly closing in on his hole where the other cock already was sheathed. "I'll put some fingers in now," he murmured as a warning. And he did.

France made a little noise but breathed out and relaxed easily with experience. It helped that he was being caressed now by three hands and two pairs of lips. He himself was still biting the shoulder of the one holding him but much more gently now.

He was being stretched gently but quickly. Both if his partners were getting impatient. "It's fine," he said soon. Perhaps a little too soon, but he wanted to get on with it too. " _Entre_."

"Already? Alright. With pleasure." England didn't linger. He suffled closer and pressed himself againt France. "Don't blame me if it hurts," he warned and pushed in.

It did hurt, of course. France let out a stifled scream and England stopped right there. Not at all surprising: The old fool might sound tough but he was a softie inside. He didn't say anything, neither of them did, but both caressed him gently.

"It's okay." France took a deep breath. "Continue."

He kept breathing hard as he was invaded but managed to control his pain. It felt fine, it was still a good kind of pain even though it made him want to cry. And it was already fading.

Fully inside, England paused. They all just stayed still like that for a while. As the pain slowly disappeared, France noticed that the two others were breathing as heavily as he was. And that he was now slick with sweat all over.

Slowly, he began to rock in their arms. There was more pleasure now than pain. They cautiously joined him, muttering something that might have been curses. Then he lifted himself up a bit and then down again and the whole mess of their intervined bodies rumbled with a shared moan.

He kept moving like that, up and down until Englands picked up the work for him, pushing in and out and lifting his hips in a confused rythm. He relaxed almost completely now, letting them lead him around and push and pull as they wished, waiting for the pace to settle. And he didn't hold back his voice, egging them on with his moans.

The England behind him soon took the lead and set the rythm. For a while he kept it slow, as if building up momentum, but mostly saving up energy and savouring the sensations. They all lost themselves in the cradle of pleasure, touching each other, letting their bodies melt together, making dirty music with their grunts and slaps and squelches.

They almost stopped for a moment, just rocking in place for a while. The England in front kissed France deep while the other licked his neck. They were soaking with sweat.

"He tastes delicious," murmured the one doing the licking. "Taste him."

The other one let France's mouth go and did exactly that. "He does", he agreed. France laughed breathily and leaned back as they feasted on his skin. The one at the back pulled his head back to kiss him too now that he had the chance. Then he moved his hand down to France's cock and began to massage it, the member slick with sweat and easy to pump.

That stirred France from his relaxation. He moaned deeply and streched backwards in pleasure. Both Englands began to move again now as well and he pushed eagerly back angling himself perfectly for his own pleasure as well as theirs.

The back England, having the most freedom to move, got pushier and ended up pressing them both down to the bed and pounding in hard and fast. France screamed as his orgasm was quickly closing in. He let it come and it washed over him like a tsunami. He got lost in his senses as he was still being fucked hard by two cocks. But it didn't take long for the two of them two come as well, both at the same time, mirrorring each other, filling him with their juices.

They all collapsed sideways, breathless, sweaty and pleased.

 

***

 

France's body ached all over when he woke up. But it was a good kind of ache. Well, mostly. He wouldn't object to a massage, though. He streched his limbs as much as he could without wincing in pain or hitting his bed partner. Yes, it was definitely nice to wake up with company and still feeling the love of last night. He just hoped he didn't have anything he needed to do today.

He blinked the blur of sleep out of his eyes and tried to sit up, but he had to give up immediately as a sharp sting hit his lower back. He groaned and froze in his place, held halfway up by his arms. He almost didn't dare to lay back as his body seemed to hate that idea just as much. In the end he had to brace himself and just do it, though, as carefully as he could. It hurt like a bitch but at least now he was prepared for it. He still let out a loud whine as he hit the pillow.

Someone beside him stirred, grumbling at him to shut up.

"Oh don't talk to me like that. It's your fault anyway." France pouted.

Then specifics of the evening came back to him. Two Englands? That couldn't be... had he been dreaming that part? He looked around. There was only one England in his bed.

"Oh... you're awake?" That single England mumbled, propping himself up with an arm.

France frowned at him. "What the hell happened last night?"

England's mouth curled into a slow grin. "I believe you got properly fucked."

"... I noticed. I can't even get up-- Oh, _merde_!" France was distracted from his confusion by a realization. "I have a meeting at ten!" He buried his face in his hands, groaning.

An arm wrapped around him. "Just cancel it."

"I can't... It's too important..."

"Tell them to call you if they need you. Or use Skype."

"That's... actually a good idea."

England grinned smugly. "You can reward me later." He slipped out of the bed, picked up France's phone from the pocket of his discarted trousers and threw it at him. "Call them. I'll go get us some coffee and tea."

He went out to buy fresh bread and croissants for breakfast too, only to join France in bed again to enjoy them together. They ended up staying there all morning.

**Author's Note:**

> France's boss here refers to the former one, this was started in 2010, remember.
> 
> A concierge is... kinda like the caretaker/janitor of a building. Except not. I've heard it translated as "gatekeeper", I'm not sure what would be most accurate so I just use the French word. He or she lives in the ground floor and keeps an eye on things. If you've seen the movie Amélie, the lady with the dead husband who sent her letters is the concierge of Amélie's apartment building.
> 
> They're not that usual anymore, apparently, but idk, I felt like France would live in a place that has one.
> 
> Later France (probably at least a bit drunk) asked England to double him too, because of course he'd want to try sex with himself too.


End file.
